


Her Best Friend

by EllanaSan



Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [44]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “I apologize but I needed a quick escape.” Seneca sighed, his eyes darting over her shoulder. “I am in need of a favor too.”“And abducting me in the middle of a conversation doesnotalready count as a favor?” Effie challenged, lifting her eyebrows.
Relationships: Effie Trinket & Seneca Crane, Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71774
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Her Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: If you could somehow make it hayffie centric, I’d love to read something about effie and senecas relationship. I really love the way you write it!
> 
> Well, I did not in fact make it hayffie centric lmao. But I did what I could so there is hayffie in there but it’s not centerstage.

Gamemakers _really_ needed to up their game, Effie mused as she smiled and mingled, a bit on autopilot. She wasn’t the only one thinking so either. Grand orchestra, gleaming chandeliers and formal outfits were all well and good but, in the middle of winter, it made for a depressing evening. No wonder most sponsors favored clubs and bars over the official Games events. Events were always a bit… _dull_ after the Victory Tour had concluded and before the new Reaping season approached but this year was taking the cake as far as she was concerned and she would probably not have attended at all if escorts’ presence hadn’t been mandatory.

She spared a thought for her friends who were all at a the latest popular club downtown and swallowed back the sigh that wanted to pass her lips. The sponsor who was currently telling her all about his pet was boring. Old and boring and…

An arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her back. The excuse tossed at the sponsor’s head barely registered because, in a deft move, she was spun around on the dancefloor and she automatically adjusted her stance for the waltz she had so unconventionally been forced into.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Seneca. “You could have asked _properly_.”

If he minded the rebuke, it didn’t show. He looked particularly _flamboyant_ that night. The yellow tux was daring but cleverly paired with a lavender cravat and pocket handkerchief that matched his dyed hair and the beard trimmed into stars patterns.

“I apologize but I needed a quick escape.” he sighed, his eyes darting over her shoulder. “I am in need of a favor too.”

“And abducting me in the middle of a conversation does _not_ already count as a favor?” she challenged, lifting her eyebrows.

“It looked like you could use a quick escape too.” he retorted with a knowing smile. “I was a little concerned you would _yawn_.”

“Please.” she scoffed. “I only yawn on the inside.” He waltzed her right across the room, cutting the path of a few other couples. He was creating a scene and people were staring at them and whispering. Making a show of being seen, then. She watched him suspiciously. “What sort of favor, Seneca?”

To his credit, he made a small face. “The sort that might have you wearing a huge diamond on your left hand for a few weeks?”

She lifted her eyebrows again. “I think the other Gamemakers might frown on that. _Serious_ fraternization is not encouraged, in case you forgot.”

“Fine. No diamonds, then.” he agreed. “Perhaps the usual charade, then.”

She caught herself before shaking her head. “What is going on?”

He actually looked pained for a second but then he schooled his features into the appropriate expression for a dance. “Do you see the blue woman near the buffet table?”

“Please, _do_ remind me to talk to you about buffet tables and _why_ they are so out of fashion right now. You need better event planners for those parties.” she told him, just as he twirled her so she could get a look at said buffet table. She didn’t miss the woman he meant because when he said _blue_ he meant _blue._ Her skin was dyed – an unfortunate fashion trend she refused to endorse in any way, shape or form; it was bad enough that Gloria, Three’s escort, had dyed herself green from head to toes. “Eileen Reed.” she declared once she was back in Seneca’s arms. “Respectable family but I have never been introduced. She is barely twenty, isn’t she?”

The Gamemaker clearly spotted something – or someone – over her shoulder he didn’t care for because he waltzed her back to the other side of the room. “The Reeds suffered a huge financial loss recently.”

“I know.” she hummed. “Father secretly bought out shares in their company until he could kick them out. It was quite masterfully done, from what I hear. He has been congratulating himself for days.”

“ _I know_.” Seneca whined – something that was _quite_ improper and that he wouldn’t have allowed himself with anyone but a close friend. “And because of _your_ father, _my_ father decided it was the _perfect_ opportunity to find me a wife.”

“Is he trying to marry you off again?” She winced in sympathy.

“Did he _ever_ stop?” he grumbled. “She is from good-breeding apparently, and since they need the money they won’t be difficult about my… _particularities_.”

“Is that what we are calling it now?” she joked. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Your current boyfriend is a better prospect. Have you told him that?”

“Would your mother be happy with you marrying a woman just because she is a better prospect than one of the dinosaurs she tosses at you on a regular basis?” he retorted.

Effie tried not to make a face at the thought of the suitors Elindra Trinket had pushed toward her lately. “Honestly, I think she is just so desperate to see me married that she wouldn’t _terribly_ mind if I brought her back a wife as long as she came from a good family and has enough money to keep me in style.”

For all her flaws Elindra had never been difficult with her sexuality. She did tend to push older men at her but she occasionally send old women her way too. To even out the score, perhaps. Same-sex marriages were common enough in the city that her mother didn’t care even if, in some circles – the Cranes being one of them – more conservative views prevailed. It was positively _District_ of them in Effie’s opinion and someone ought to tell them one day.

“You are luckier than I am, then.” Seneca lamented. “Because I have been told a husband would _not_ be acceptable. We have to be _proper_. Because Mother’s drug addiction or Father’s numerous shady affairs with younger women are all _so_ proper.” Bitterness made his voice hard. Effie comfortingly patted his shoulder, making him sigh. “Father has been _very_ difficult, lately.”

The waltz ended, another started and Seneca didn’t even hint at letting her go.

“You are about to become the youngest Head Gamemaker _ever_.” she scoffed. It was all but official now. It would be announced in a couple of weeks, along with the name of the new escort that would fill the position in Six. “He should be _proud_.”

He chuckled sadly. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

Effie understood.

Seneca was older than she was by two years but they had been thrust together at social events since childhood and had developed a particularly dear friendship. She wouldn’t call it entirely _honest_ because _honesty_ was not something that was found in the Capitol but if she had to name her best friend, it was his name she would give.

That friendship wasn’t sorely based on being forced to attend the same ballroom dance classes or the same boring children tea parties. Mostly it had developed when they had realized that they would never _ever_ satisfy their respective parents. Effie had her issues with her mother – who dotted on Seneca – and Seneca had problems with his father – who _adored_ Effie. It had more or less worked out during their teenage years when they had covered for each other, all the while daring the other into rebellious habits – she had made him smoke his first cigarette and he had given her her first _joy pill_. When she had all but run away from home at seventeen to become a model against her mother’s wishes, Seneca had smoothed things out for her. When the scandal about then current Head Gamemaker Crane’s son being caught in _a delicate situation_ with another boy had blown out, it was Effie who had convinced his father _not_ to cut off his inheritance.

They had a system and the system worked.

“You becoming Head Gamemaker was _all_ he _ever_ wanted.” she insisted. “You are making _history_ as you are doing it. President Snow _values_ you _so much_ … I do not understand it.”

“To be fair, I think he was proud for about five minutes.” Seneca replied in a mocking tone. “He even offered me a glass of the scotch he keeps in his office, can you imagine? Then, it was all about the family name and how I needed to grow up and get on the business of making heirs. _Heirs_. Plural.”

Effie bit back a smile. “It is not so funny when you are the one being harassed for grandchildren, is it?”

He had given her _hell_ over Elindra’s obsession a few years earlier.

“Ha, _bloody_ ha.” he grumbled.

“Don’t swear.” she chided. “Now, the waltz is about to end… I suggest you tell me the plan and quickly because your father is hovering and I do not think you will be able to make a run for it.”

She could see the man, not too far from the buffet where the blue girl was patiently waiting. Not much of a personality, Effie surmised. She might make a good trophy wife, after all.

“I need you to date me very publicly.” he said, as if it was obvious.

“It is the _third_ time, Seneca.” she countered. “The public might believe it but our family won’t.”

“Perhaps they won’t but will they _mind_?” he argued with a disarming smile. “I suppose we will find out on Sunday.”

She frowned. “What is happening on Sunday?” 

“Your mother’s weekly family brunch to which you are bringing me as a date.” he answered as if it was obvious. “Then we will pop over to my parents’ for dinner. It will be a perfectly ghastly day but I do plan on meeting Aldo afterwards and having a grand night. I will even find you a sweet eye candy toy for your amusement, if you want.”

“No, thank you.” She snorted. “Look, Seneca…” He turned his best kicked puppy expression on her and the young girl who had once been _quite_ partial to his looks softened inside her. She sighed. “ _Fine_. We will date. _No_ engagement, though. If I break off another one Mother might have a heart attack.”

“How many now?” he asked knowingly.

“Three.” she acknowledged. “Although to be fair I was quite sure I wanted to marry them when I said yes…”

“I liked Paolo.” he hummed. “A bit old, of course, but that’s to be expected when your mother does the matchmaking… He did have nice hands.” The music stopped and, this time, he had no choice but to lead her back to the edge of the dance floor by the hand. “No engagement.” he agreed quickly, his voice urgent even though his face reflected nothing but serenity. “A few weeks. Until the nomination. Then, I’ll… Father! Where did you go? One second your were next to me, the next I had lost you…”

Seneca sounded and looked very innocent but Oresto Crane clearly knew better. He was a severe-looking sort of man. _Scary_. As a Head Gamemaker, he must have terrified the staff, Effie had often mused. She would have to ask Haymitch sometimes. He had been the Head Gamemaker when he had won. Rumor was things had become more flexible since Torello had taken over. And it seemed like Seneca would follow in Torello’s footsteps. No forbearing dark colors and no no-nonsense haircut for him, he planned on being _fabulous_ and Effie could only approve.

“Mr Crane!” she exclaimed before his father could explode. “How wonderful to see you!”

The man, unbelievable as it was, softened a fraction. “Effie. It has been too long since you came to visit, darling girl…”

“Blame your son, he likes to keep me to himself.” She laughed and tossed Seneca a slightly reproachful look. “He _did_ just invite me to dinner on Sunday, though. I know it is family time… Would you mind _terribly_ if I imposed?”

“It would be no imposition, do not be coy.” Oresto chided but with a fond smile. “You know I consider you family.” The look he gave Seneca told him just _how much_ he would love for _that_ to be a reality. “Now, dear, I was about to introduce Seneca to a particular young lady. I hate to be rude…”

“Oh, I cannot _possibly_ allow _that_.” She pouted, wrapping both arms around Seneca’s, aware that eyes were turning toward them. “You _cannot_ introduce him to anyone _younger_ than me, he could get his head turned.”

“No danger of that.” Seneca promised sweetly, covering one of her hands with his. “My eyes are only for you.”

She batted her eyelashes at him, looking the part of the enamored debutante. “You _are_ sweet, darling.”

Oresto was watching them with a calculating glint in his eyes. You didn’t get to be a Head Gamemaker by being stupid and he had been a particularly shrewd one in his days. He clearly wasn’t buying the act but also didn’t want to dismiss the chance they were actually genuine – they _had_ dated for real, briefly and innocently, when Effie had been fifteen and Seneca seventeen and, for a while, it had been good. And of course, there had been the occasional hook-up in their early twenties… They weren’t entirely _strangers_ to genuine romantic entanglements.

In the end, Oresto relented, probably because he actually wanted to believe it might work out this time. “I will see you on Sunday, then.”

Effie watched him go, feeling slightly guilty.

“A few dates.” Seneca whispered in her ear. “I promise I will make it good.”

And Seneca was true to his word.

He took her to dinner in the most exclusive restaurants, brought her to clubs where they danced the night away, they walked red carpets and paused for photographs…

“I am getting too old for this.” she complained as they dragged themselves home one morning. Dawn was rising in the horizon and they hadn’t even been to bed yet. She had used to love that life when she was twenty but now… Now she was almost thirty and she tended to cut the night short around three at most, four if she truly couldn’t help it.

“Nonsense, you are radiant.” Seneca mumbled, high on something or other. It was a side of him she didn’t really like: how easily he relied on drugs to get him through a night out… Ever since her own brush with addiction… If Haymitch hadn’t helped her cut off the pills two years before… But she chased those thoughts from her mind. She had been very careful not to think about Haymitch ever since they had started the charade. Haymitch was in Twelve and the kisses were for show. They didn’t count. And she didn’t owe him anything anyway. It wasn’t…

She hadn’t warned her mother she was bringing a plus-one to brunch but Elindra was ready for Seneca all the same. _More_ than ready. Lyssandra shot her a sympathetic smile over the fruit salad bowl every time their mother hinted at upcoming nuptials but her sister also looked very pleased by the prospect of a wedding. Even her father did a rare apparition and patted Seneca’s shoulder for a long time, telling him how he had happened to meet Oresto by chance and they had had a long productive conversation… If her father had been the kind, she was fairly certain he would have winked and nudged poor Seneca.

She had thought brunch was bad but it only got worse once they arrived at the Cranes’.

It became _very_ obvious _very_ fast that their engagement was not only _expected_ but actually _taken for granted_. Worse, Seneca didn’t look too disturbed by that state of affair. He took it all in stride, basking in the rare approbation coming from his father…

Effie got it because she had certainly enjoyed her own mother being civil with her for once but…

“They think it is for real.” she hissed later, as they lied in bed. The sleepovers at each other’s house had been his idea, to sell the story – and because he paid paparazzo to take pictures of their respective walks of shame in the morning. “They think we are actually going to announce it after you officially get the Head Gamemaker position.”

Seneca was silent and she turned her head to look at him. He was staring at the canopy of his ridiculously huge bed – and she would have asked _why_ he needed so big a bed but she actually _knew_ why, had _maybe_ participated in the _why_ a time or two in her wild youth.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked at last.

She scoffed. “I beg your pardon?”

He rolled on his side to watch her and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. She was wearing make-up, of course, although a lighter amount than usual, and her hair was wrapped in a silky colorful cloth artfully knotted because there was _no way_ she would let him see her plain blond hair. Not that he wanted to see it, for that matter. He wasn’t _Haymitch_. He wasn’t…

“Getting married? Would it be so bad?” he insisted. “It would solve _everything_. My father would leave me alone and your mother would stop pushing you to date those disgusting old men…”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “We are _not_ getting married.”

“Why?” He propped his head on his hand and stared down at her. “We should have done it a long time ago, Effie. _Why_ _not_?”

“I… You know the rules!” she retorted. “If we get married, I will be asked to step down. There has never been a married escort.”

“So what?” he dismissed. “You will enjoy being the wife of a Head Gamemaker a lot more than you do being _Twelve’s_ escort, I promise you.”

She might, at that, but she had always thought… She had always thought that if she ever got married, it would be as an out for the Games. And marrying Seneca would definitely _not_ get her out of the Games. There was no way the wife of a Head Gamemaker wouldn’t be involved.

But she would be the most important woman in Panem, right after President Snow’s daughter…

And Seneca’s family was _filthily_ wealthy, too.

“It’s perfect.” Seneca continued. “I cannot tell you how many times my father has sat me down and ordered me to secure you before Elindra married you off to someone else. Tonight, even, he told me not to be stupid enough to let you go once more and… He’s right. If I have to do this, I want to do it with my best friend. Actually having _heirs_ do not seem that bad with you… I know you would be a great mother.”

She didn’t bother to mask the hurt that flashed on her face. There weren’t many people who knew about her problems but Seneca was definitely one of them and for him to so casually forget… “You know I cannot…”

“No…” He cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked sorry. “I apologize, sweetest. I did not mean… We can hire a surrogate. Who even carries their own baby nowadays?” The women who _could_ , she thought bitterly, but he hadn’t meant it to be mean. “Think about it.” he pressed. “I know you want children.”

Did she?

She had used to at some point, before she had accepted the fact that she would never manage to carry any to term. An accidental miscarriage was one too many as far as she was concerned. She didn’t want to live through that again.

She had also wanted children _before_ she had brought so many to their death. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

And it wasn’t the only objection she had…

“Seneca… You know I love you…” she whispered. “But I want a _real_ marriage, not an arranged sham.”

He frowned a little but the hand that was on her shoulder drifted down and she regretted her choice of nightgown a little. It wasn’t particularly sexy but it was thin and when his palm brushed against her nipple, it hardened.

“We can have a real marriage.” he argued. “I am not impartial to women, you know. I am certainly not impartial to _you_ if memory serves…” His voice dropped a little. “We _can_ have a real marriage. Perhaps we could just… keep it… open?” She relocated his hand to the space between their bodies before he could start… _confusing_ her. He winced at the obvious rejection. “I _cannot_ promise faithfulness, Effie. I… I know myself. I see a pretty thing and…”

“No, no…” She sat up, shaking her head. “That’s not it. I just… I can’t.”

Seneca sat up too, watching her in silence for a while. “Does this have to do with a certain victor, by any chance?”

She averted her eyes. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“ _Right_.” He sounded just as sarcastic as he meant to be and she shot him an annoyed look that did nothing to him. “Would _now_ be a good time to tell you Torello has started briefing me and that, in those briefing, the questions of victors and what they are usually up to in the city has been breached? There are reports, Effie. The consensus for now is that it is just sexual and, to be honest, Abernathy is a bleep on our radar, he’s keeping to himself and he’s not worth surveillance, but…”

She winced. “Seneca…” 

“I do not mind if you want to keep him on the side.” He shrugged. “As I was saying… An open marriage would be _ideal_. You and I would be one thing, what we do with our respective toys would be another.”

At another point in her life, she might have said yes.

Lately though…

Lately even sleeping with other people felt…

It felt… _less_.

And it was all because…

“I am sorry. If you had asked me three years ago… But now… I _cannot_.” she declared. “I am willing to help you out but I do not want to take the sham further than that. I am not meant to be a trophy wife.”

“You could _never_ be a trophy wife.” he scoffed. “If anything, _I_ would be the trophy husband.” He studied her for a moment and then sighed. “I suppose it is my own fault. I should have married you when I had the chance. Fine. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I do not want to lose you over this.”

“Are you angry with me?” she asked.

“A little.” he admitted. “But that’s my selfishness talking. It will be better in the morning.”

He reached for the light and she lied back down, getting comfortable. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, weirdly aware of Seneca’s body next to hers, weirdly aware that it wasn’t _Haymitch’s_. No, she thought, she could never live _that_ lie.

“Are you in love with him?” he whispered after a while.

She chose to pretend to sleep.

He was nice enough to humor her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! They have a complex friendship in my hc but Seneca would actually go far enough for her. Not as far as revolution or risking his own life for hers but he would try to protect her as much as he can... So... Yeah! Hope you liked this! Let me know!


End file.
